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Nicola McDonagh

Glimmer and other stories

Synopsis

Glimmer is a collection of seven compelling and darkly humorous stories that deal with obsession, loss, redemption and hope.
In these tales of mysterious liaisons, supernatural intrigue, deathly hauntings and disturbing fixations, characters reveal hidden secrets, forbidden urges, untold yearnings and skills in necromancy.
'I was found in a plastic bag inside a dustbin. Dried blood and faeces stuck to my newborn flesh. Dumped by some teenage girl, too scared to say that she had given birth to a premature baby. Or so the story goes. It’s a pack of lies of course. I fell from the sky.'
Rousseau’s Suburban Jungle takes us into the world of Esther, who loses herself in the wild and colourful paintings of Henri Rousseau to escape the blandness of her existence. In The Reclaimed Merman a suicidal man is saved from a watery grave after he meets an eccentric woman on the beach. When the legendary artist Earnest Thirk dies, a grieving fan decides to honour his secret last wish. And in the Award Winning tale Glimmer, a young man reflects upon his life as he waits for messages from the stars.

Author Biography

Nicola J McDonagh is a creative writing tutor and photographer. Born in Liverpool she now lives in a 17th Century timber framed cottage with her musician husband and rescue cats. She loves to grow, cook and eat her own vegetables and fruit.
Nicola trained as a photojournalist and gained an Hons Degree in Drama and English Literature. She also has a Diploma in Creative Writing. Nicola used to be an actor and scriptwriter, and can know call herself a published author.
She won the Suffolk Book League’s Short Story Competition, and was short-listed for the Escalator Genre Fiction Competition with an extract from Echoes from the Lost Ones. The book was published by Fable Press July 2013 and is receiving excellent reviews. The sequel, A Silence Heard, was published 2014.
Nicola has also self-published a collection of short stories, Glimmer and other stories.

Author Insight

On the Eighth Day - Is this weird enough?

With this short story I wanted to create a sense of strangeness and a spooky atmosphere.
The subject matter is odd and I didn't want to give too much away so that when the reader realises who the narrator is, it comes as a gruesome surprise.
I intentionally used a rather Gothic style as it is a supernatural horror story, but I wonder if I have done enough with the descriptions to get the horror element across.
When you read this section, does it convey enough about the character and the space she finds herself in?
I would love to hear any comments.

Book Excerpt

Glimmer and other stories

Never knew a man could feel so soft. More used to rough hands grabbing, not knowing what they touched. He knew. At least I hoped so. Hard to tell. Been a while since I was in the company of a male.

Father doesn’t count. Besides, he wanted me gone. Married to anyone just so long as I was finally out of the house. Urged on by my unsympathetic parent, I allowed a host of degenerates to use me. I remember one that insisted I wear a mask to hide my somewhat muddy complexion. Outraged by the suggestion, I vowed that I would remain pure, much to my father’s annoyance.

I let suitor after suitor slip by. Hung around too long though. Lines and wrinkles deepened with each missed opportunity and I began to panic. Saw no choice but to take the next male that showed an interest in me. I put up with his clammy hands and cigar breath. Turned away when he picked his nose and rubbed it on the arm of the chair, and never once enquired what he was doing in the basement. I even agreed to the blindfold. Should have peeked. Would have saved myself a lot of bother.

All images of that grim time faded away when I looked at the room I was in. I propped myself against the bedpost to better view my

surroundings. What a bed! Cast iron silver, with spiral bed posts that wound right up to the ceiling. I traced their twists and turns with my eyes and thought I was a Princess.

Slatted blinds fed strips of sunshine around the chamber, casting dark bars upon the parquet flooring. Imprisoning the world outside. I was glad to be so high up, away from the noise and hectic footsteps of the common crowd. Although quiet, I heard the wind moan around the rafters, sighing through the room like the whistling of a ghost. Goosebumps crept up my back and neck. Felt like death bone fingers.

The half-light crept around the apartment and exposed different nooks and crannies to my view. It was dark when he brought me here, dark when we lay down. I was curious about my new environment. I let my eyes explore and unearthed clues that solved themselves the more I spied. An attic once, I assume by the size of it. Wooden beams stained with age lined the ceiling and walls. On the polished oak floor lay Persian rugs the colour of dried blood. I shivered. No wonder it was cold, all open the way it was. Bedroom, living room, kitchen in one big space. With a red lacquered wooden divider strategically placed to conceal the bathroom.

I marvelled at his collection of antiques, at the array of curious objects from distant lands. At the exquisite porcelain vases, figurines, paintings and tapestries that filled the place. I was especially taken with a glass-fronted cabinet that housed a selection of china plates so fine that you could almost see through them. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was in a great country house. Everywhere I looked luxury and excess. His appeal grew stronger. I returned my focus to his body. Hands, fleshy, strong and I took comfort in their blue-veined vitality.